


Ten Daryl/Beth Drabbles

by Severina



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten Daryl/Beth drabbles, various timelines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Daryl/Beth Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Each title is a prompt received during a recent bingo challenge. 1300 words total (includes 3 double drabbles.)

01\. **I hate everyone... and pants**  
Futurefic. 100 words.

So he's sitting inside the cabin," Rick said.

"In his underpants," Maggie continued.

"And he refuses to come out?" Glenn finished.

Beth sighed. 

"Must be that knock on the head he got yesterday, don't ya think?" Rick asked. "That walker came pretty close."

"Too close," Glenn said.

"He says nobody understands him and he's taking some time for himself," Beth said.

"Wait." Glenn held up a hand. " _Daryl Dixon_ is going _emo_?"

"You can laugh about it later," Maggie said to her smirking husband. "Right now, you need to go in there and help your brother in law put on some pants."

**

02\. **Happy Ever After**  
Futurefic. Double drabble - 200 words.

"It ain't so great," Daryl said into the silence. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, studying the little cabin critically. "Still got some holes in the roof to fix, and the pump don't work but we're real close to the lake so I can rig somethin' up pretty fast. Needs some cleanin' and I gotta work on the insulation…" He trailed off when he saw her biting her lip; shook his head. "Never mind. It was a stupid idea."

"It's not stupid!" Beth said. She turned in a slow circle, and he could see her cataloguing all the things he'd already mentioned and more to spare. "It's… a mess," she added with a lopsided grin, "and we're going to have our work cut out for us. But those holes? Just means we're gonna have to cuddle to stay warm. And you can scrub my back in the lake…"

Daryl's answering smile felt weak and flimsy. "Just wanted it to be perfect," he said softly.

"Daryl, everything is already perfect," Beth said. When her arms looped around his neck, he relaxed into her embrace. "We've got each other," she said firmly. "It doesn't get better than that."

**

03\. **"I need you"**  
Post Grady, Beth never died la la la. 100 words.

He leaves her be; lets her spend her time with her sister, with the baby who gurgled in joy and held out chubby arms demanding to be held the moment she saw her again. But the nights are long. And he's felt so alone.

He finds her sitting by the fire when everyone else is asleep; sits beside her and stares and bites his cheek and stumbles over his words.

"Beth," he finally begins, "I —"

Her hand is soft in his; her lips, softer still.

"I know," she says, voice as soothing as her touch. "I love you, too."

**

04\. **"Because I love this song!"**  
Funeral Parlour. 100 words.

"You're gonna wear out the damn batteries!"

Beth shrugged. "So we'll get new batteries."

"Ain't like we can just run down to the 7-Eleven, ya know," Daryl groused. "Why you gotta keep playing that CD anyways?"

Beth swayed in time to the music, grinning at him. "Because I love this song!" 

Daryl sniffed. He'd much rather listen to her plink away at the piano, and that singer didn't have nothing on Beth's sweet, simple voice. But when her eyes sparkled like that, he was done. He licked the pencil nub and added 'batteries' to the list for his supply run. 

**

05\. **Empty**  
With the Claimers. 100 words.

The wind cuts through him. Because his bones are hollow, empty branches that still hold him together no matter how much he hopes they'll just fall apart and let him collapse in the dirt. They poke through his skin, brittle, when he lies on the oily floor of the garage and stares at the yellowing smoke stains on the ceiling. They grind together when he trudges along beside Joe, listening to the man attempt to claim him. 

Won't happen. He's only ever belonged to one person, and she's gone.

He's as empty as the landscape, and his bones are hollow.

**

06\. **Too much to drink**  
After the shack. 100 words

"That ain't like me," Daryl says. He wants to scowl down at the leaves so he makes himself look her in the eye instead. He tried to say it with moonlight and moonshine and a final flip-off to their old lives, but she deserves a proper apology. "Easy to blame the 'shine, but… Had no right to treat ya like that. And I'm sorry."

He can't hold her gaze any longer, not when she's looking at him with so much damn understanding.

He watches a bug trundle across a branch. And when her fingers close around his, he breathes again.

**

07\. **Falling**  
At the funeral parlour. Double drabble - 200 words.

Her mother always told her to stay away from the bad boys. That was part of the reason she agreed to let Jimmy take her to the spring social, and why kept on seeing him even though she'd rather have been with Keith Thompson, who spent more time in detention than in biology class cutting up frogs.

So she tries to resist the lure of Daryl Dixon, with his motorcycle and his leather vest with its battered wings. Even after she finds out all that noise and bluster is just a cover up for his soft heart, she still tells herself that he's too old, too brash, too experienced. 

She resists right up until the time he sets her down in an old cemetery and twines his fingers with hers when the loss of her dad seems the most overwhelming. She holds strong until he puts a flower on the grave of a man he doesn't know, and she knows that he's seeing Hershel in that 'beloved father' inscription every bit as much as she is. 

Then she gives in, and decides to let her heart take the lead. It's done well so far.

She knows her parents would approve.

**

08\. **Tornado**  
At the funeral parlour. 100 words.

Her voice is sweet and pure, like clear water from a fresh stream. Daryl tries to concentrate on the way it spirals up to the ceiling and hangs in the air, but there's a whirlwind making his chest ache and his mind spin and he can't seem to focus on anything at all. She's just Beth – Maggie's little sister, Hershel's kid – except now she's a lot more. She's the fighter who refuses to give up, the eternal optimist, the dreamer. She's hope and strength and light.

Now she's _his_ , and he doesn't have a clue what to do about it.

**

09\. **Gone Swimming, Clothes Stolen**  
Futurefic. Double Drabble - 200 words.

Daryl shook his head like a dog when he rose from the water, scattering water droplets along the surface of the pond. It was rare enough to find a spot secluded enough to bathe; rarer still to be able to discard filthy clothes on the bank and get down to his birthday suit. He felt refreshed in a way that he hadn't since they'd left the prison and its surprisingly luxurious showers behind.

He blinked to get the water out of his eyes as he reached for his trousers; blinked again when his questing hand met nothing but long grass.

"Missing something?" Beth called.

He could scowl and fret, demand she put his clothes back immediately. Instead he stood, letting the water drip down his naked body.

"Hah," he shouted. "Ain't so funny now, is it?"

He watched the smug, self-satisfied look drop from Beth's face like a stone down a well. She sure as hell didn't expect _that_.

Then she grinned at him and reached for the hem of her polo shirt, and he knew he was in trouble. Backing away didn't help; diving for the bottom didn't help.

Later, he reflected that trouble had never felt so good.

**

10\. **Twas a dark and stormy night...**  
After the shack. 100 words.

"Twas a dark and stormy night…"

"Stop it!" Beth said, slapping at his arm. "Last thing we need right now is your ghost stories, Daryl Dixon!"

Daryl shrugged and leaned back against the bier, watching her in the gloom. Her face was pale, her arms wrapped around her knees, her shoulders hunched against the sound of the pounding rain on the roof. 

All right, maybe a mausoleum wasn't the best place for jokes.

But when the thunder cracked outside, she jerked and then scuttled over to huddle against his chest. He kind of hoped the storm lasted all damn day.


End file.
